


Married Alive!

by MissMoochy



Series: MissMoochy's FebuWhump 2021 Oneshots [2]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man/Deadpool - Joe Kelly (Comics)
Genre: Bittersweet, Break Up, FebuWhump2021, M/M, Married Couple, POV Wade Wilson, Spiderman/Deadpool - Joe Kelly (Comics) Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:41:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29143890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMoochy/pseuds/MissMoochy
Summary: FebuWhump 2021 Day 2: ["I can't take this anymore!"]Sometimes, two people work better as friends. And that’s okay.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Series: MissMoochy's FebuWhump 2021 Oneshots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2136714
Comments: 7
Kudos: 29





	Married Alive!

Wade ran home and didn’t stop running even as he entered the apartment. He dashed through the living room to the bedroom. He was a flurry of activity, opening drawers and their mahogany closest, pulling out changes of clothes. His suitcase was under the bed, and he hauled it up, dumping it on the bed. Peter had made the bed that morning. It didn’t matter. Wade could make it again.

Wade lacked that handy-dandy spider-sense, so he didn’t realise he was being watched until he heard his husband’s voice.

“Going somewhere?”

“Tijuana.”

Peter blinked. “Tijuana?”

Wade threw a few pairs of rolled-up socks onto the stack of clothes. “There’s a new drug cartel operating in Zona Norte. They’ve got people terrified. Weasel got a message from a guy who lives in America but has got family over there and he’s worried for them. He’s willing to pay through the nose for me to dismantle the cartel.”

“Dismantle meaning—” Peter dragged his finger across his throat.

Wade shrugged.

“You can’t go. Not now.”

Wade abandoned his packing to stare at Peter. “What? Why not?”

“This is your weekend with Ellie. Carmelita is bringing her here tomorrow afternoon, remember?”

“It’s not this weekend… Is it?”

Peter nodded. “Yeah, it is,” he said slowly. “If you’d bother to look at the calendar, you’d know it’s this week.”

“Where’s the cal—”

“Refrigerator.”

* * *

Wade sought it out, the magnetic calendar stuck at head height (well, Peter’s head height) on the fridge-freezer. He cursed. In black felt-tip, there it was. _Ellie._

Peter sauntered in and tapped the magnet. “Did you see—”

“Obviously I did,” he snapped. 

Peter was watching him carefully. “What are you going to do?”

He hesitated. He hated blowing off his own kid like this, but he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t march straight to those drug smugglers and shoot them like sport.

“We can skip the visit this week. Or, _you_ could hang out with her at home—”

Peter rounded on him, with a blistering glare. People might see Wade with his height, and his guns and his scars and think he was the intimidating one. But Peter possessed this knack for making Wade feel two foot tall. When he scowled at him like that, radiating rippling waves of fury, Wade felt like the biggest douchebag in the world.

“Oh, right, because being your husband means I’m just a glorified babysitter to you! I can’t take this anymore! She’s your child, not mine! You can’t keep foisting her on me because you’re too _busy_ to be her dad”

“You love Ellie!”

“Of course I do, she’s amazing, but Wade, I have commitments too! I’ve got work! I’ve got patrol!”

“You’re going to walk around, webbing up muggers,” Wade scoffed. “I’m going to be taking down a cartel!”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “Oh, so this is a competition?”

“It’s not a competition, but if it was, I’d win because what I’m doing is important and what you do is...”

“What?” And when he didn’t reply, “No, tell me. What were you going to say?” He could curse his own stupid, bullet-riddled brain or his clumsy tongue. He wasn’t like Peter, he’d never had a delicate touch. Peter was eloquent, he could frame words so carefully. Wade admired him for that, but all Wade could do was a bit of damage control. 

“It’s not — I don’t —”

”Finish your sentence,” Peter hadn’t thawed, still leaning on the counter with his arms folded, his thick black sweater covering his thin shoulders. “What were you going to say? Were you going to say that Spider-Man’s work doesn’t matter? That what I do doesn’t make a difference?”

“Well, it’s not like what you do affects the grand scheme of things,” Wade said heatedly. The boxes were roaring with laughter, delighting in his ineptitude, but he barrelled on. “You take on petty thieves and low-level mooks, street crime. All the big stuff, alien invasions and anything important gets handled by The Avengers. And you don’t even kill anybody! You just web them up and let the police deal with them. Do you have any idea how quick it is that they’re processed and then put back out on the street? Half the time, you don’t even leave the cops any evidence, you web some mugger or carjacker tied to a lamppost, what are the police supposed to do if there’s no evidence?”

“You kill people,” Peter said flatly. “Who are you to talk about cooperating with the police? I thought you didn’t work with government bodies, anyway. ACAB and all that.”

“That’s my point! You try to do things lawfully, but you sneak around in the dark just like the rest of us! And I know you hate that I kill people. I gave up so many gigs for you. I only do the big stuff now but it’s still not good enough for you. I can tell you resent me, Peter. You prance about like you’re a fucking angel but you…you…”

“Run out of steam yet? Or are you going to keep going?”

His anger had ebbed out of him, like blood. Now he just felt drained. “I didn’t mean any of that.”

“No, you did. For the first time ever, I know you’re being totally honest with me. Which is kind of fucked up, if you think about it. You always hurt me. Even when you’re trying not to. Especially then. Because I allow myself to hope that you’ve changed, and I end up getting screwed over.”

“When have I ever hurt you? Webs, I love you. I try to treat you right. I never — when have I screwed you over?”

Peter tapped a finger against his lips. “Let’s think. You threw me off a bridge—”

“You survived, didn’t you?”

“You got the Hypno-Hustler to make me beat up innocent prison guards!”

“You’re still hung up on that, huh?”

“You shot me, point-blank in the head. Multiple times. Oh yeah, and you got me sent to Hell!”

Wade threw his hands up. “Oh, here we go! If you ever wanna hang up the web-shooters for good, there’s a glowing career for you in archaeology, seeing as how you love digging up the past! I _knew_ you hadn’t forgiven me for shooting you!”

“You murdered me. I think this goes a bit beyond marriage counselling.”

“I can’t keep apologising—”

“You never apologise! For anything! Not for killing me, or for disappointing your daughter!”

“Don’t you mention her,” Wade snarled. “Don’t even go there.”

Wade stood, chest heaving, fingers curling uselessly into fists. He’d never hurt Peter. Not intentionally. No, not in any way, intentional or otherwise! He loved him so much it fucking hurt.

Peter was silent for a long moment. Finally—

“It’s not working out, is it?”

Wade felt the strength leave his limbs and he sank down onto the floor. “No. No, it’s not.”

“Maybe we’re better off as...”

“Friends?”

Wade looked up. Peter was standing right there. He wished he could wipe away the worry lines on his brow. He’d put them there. He was supposed to make Peter’s life better but all he did was make it worse.

Peter’s gaze searched his. Always so earnest. Fucking Spider-Man, why did he have to go and fall in love with _Spider-Man?_

“We made a good go of it, though. Didn’t we?”

Wade hugged him tightly, burying his face in Peter’s hair. Maybe a few tears slipped out and melted into Peter’s tousled curls, but it was no big deal, right?

“Yeah, babe, we did.”


End file.
